


what's your problem? (always you)

by rhien



Series: Rainbow Book Exchange Ficlets [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: CarryOn-era canon, Ficlet, M/M, SnowBaz, and Simon, everyone knows that the inside of Simon's head is just 'Baz Baz Baz BAZ BAZ BAZ' at all times, everyone knows this but Baz, nobody wants to hear about your crush Simon, oh Baz bby, well technically pre-SnowBaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8668036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhien/pseuds/rhien
Summary: He hasn't taken off that warded necklace for years, not for a minute. But he’s not wearing it now. I don’t know why. Probably thought I was never coming back, that he was rid of me for good.
(Or: Baz Is Too Tired For This Shit.)
(Fits in Carry On, end of chapter 31.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet written for the Rainbow Book Exchange of 2016-17.
> 
> Baz POV of page 169-170 (end of chapter 31) of Carry On, by Rainbow Rowell.
> 
> I failed at a true drabble, but I tried to keep it to 500 words or so...
> 
> Thanks as ever to my betas, who are always too kind. ([steadfastasthouart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/steadfastasthouart/pseuds/steadfastasthouart), [RainyForecast](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/RainyForecast), [plotting](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plotting/pseuds/plotting), karakurakid, and also [knightinbrightfeathers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinbrightfeathers/pseuds/knightinbrightfeathers) from whom I stole all the good tags above.)

 

 

###  **B** **AZ**

 

My timing is truly cursed, I think, as Simon Snow, _sans_ shirt, steps out of the bathroom in a rush of steam. Suddenly the whole room smells of his skin, clean and warm and humid, of his damp hair… and of the blood on his jawline.

I’m too tired for this shit. I don’t know why he bothers to shave at all. He doesn’t really need it, and he’s dreadful at it—two nicks (like tonight) is nothing, really. Just enough to make me gnash my teeth and hold my breath, trying not to smell anything—

Clearly I’m exhausted, because it takes me a good ninety seconds to realize what’s strange: no cross.

He hasn’t taken off that warded necklace in years, not for a minute. Not in the shower, not playing football, not for bed—not while he’s fighting monsters or stalking me in the catacombs. I can always hear the bail of the pendant whispering over the chain under his shirt—and more to the point, I can _feel_ it. It doesn’t trouble me, normally, not from a few paces. Just a faint vibration in my head, my throat, my mouth. A buzz that intensifies if I get closer, till it feels like my teeth are chattering (they aren’t really), till I can almost feel heat (or something like heat) radiating off it. I often wonder: would it burn my skin if I touched it?

And now there’s nothing. Silence. Stillness. Nothing to remind me to keep my distance.

When Wellbelove first gave it to him, at the end of fourth year, it felt like a slap across the face. (Which was stupid—it isn’t like I thought, even then, that he could ever trust me.) Overhearing him telling Bunce, in a morose voice, that “I’m pretty sure they only gave it to me to get me to shut up about my ‘vampire’ roommate”—that part did make me feel a bit better.  

By fifth year, I was glad. (Secretly, desperately, pathetically glad. So glad, at one point I considered sending an anonymous thank-you bouquet to Wellbelove.) It’s given me something else to focus on when Snow comes out of the bath with reddened bits of tissue paper stuck to his face or neck, or when we fight and I bloody his nose, or when he insists on using _fucking blood magic_ just to unlock the fucking door. (I used to assume he did it to bait me, or just to torment me, but he’s too dim for that, I’ve decided. He simply doesn’t _think._ Or notice. Anything.)

But he’s not wearing it now. I don’t know why. Probably thought I was never coming back, that he was rid of me for good.

Now _I_ have to remind _him_ to put it back on. (And of course he looks all _surprised_ about it. Of course he does.)

And when he does, he stares straight into my eyes like he’s trying to read my mind, or daring me to… to what? No idea. Likely he doesn’t even know. He certainly doesn’t know what I’m thinking.

He’s forever so bloody clueless.

(Thank Crowley.)  


End file.
